


a year of living dangerously.

by bee_kind



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, I know u missed me bbies, The Ship Sails On, Thrandis, modern!AU, more like roommateswhomakeoutandoccassionallybangwhentheygetdrunk!au am i right?, roommates!AU, shoves thrandis at u
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-17
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-02-17 17:36:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2317733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bee_kind/pseuds/bee_kind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>365 drabbles encompassing the year that Thranduil and Dis shared the most expensive apartment in the entirety of Arda.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. interview

l.

There had to have been some mistake.   
  
Thranduil kept repeating that thought to himself over and over as he stared at the woman (girl?) in front of him.   
  
There had to have been some mistake.  
  
There was no one that this...this _child_ in her over-sized Ramones tee-shirt, paint covered skinny jeans and torn up old converse could afford to live in Greenwood. He’d only put out the advertisement for a roommate in his social circles which this...young lady could not possibly be apart of. She was nineteen at the oldest and judging by the seeming lack of care for personal appearance she had to have been a student at Dale Community College.

Still, he crossed his legs and tried to mask his obvious disdain. She was looking around his livingroom, rather unimpressed oversized, thick-framed glasses slipping down her nose. She adjusted them, but they only slipped down again.   
  
He’d thought from her emails that she’d been male. Dis was, after all, a man’s name and she’d given no indication otherwise. Besides, what woman would want to share an apartment -an expensive apartment in the most expensive neighborhood in Arda, at that- with a man she didn’t even know. Thranduil cleared his throat and the woman turned slowly, uninterested grey eyes settling on his.  
  
“There is an interview to complete.” She quirked an eyebrow up slowly. She seemed to move without care, as if everything in the world would wait for her. _Failure to move promptly_. He’d add that to her sheet.   
  
“I’m aware.” She drawled. Iluvatar, that accent. She spoke like she’d lived in the Blue Hills her entire life.  The girl -he’d still call her that ‘til she proved otherwise- sat on his couch perfectly at ease, as if she lived there already. No amount of his staring seemed to dissuade her.   
  
“Start by introducing yourself, then.”  She looked away from him, suddenly becoming much more interested in a speck on the wall.   
  
“My name is Dis. I’m twenty-four-”  
  
Older than he’d thought she was. The fact that she’d refrained from giving him a last name hadn’t escaped his notice, but he’d not comment. For now.   
  
“I graduated top of my class from the University of Gondor. I double majored in Metallurgical Engineering and General Chemistry with a minor in Political Science.”  
  
The University of Gondor was nothing to scoff at. They rarely accepted anyone off of any sort of scholarship, so she must’ve been from some sort of money to afford an education like that. Not to mention her majors. She didn’t exactly come across as a scientist, or anyone who’d have any stake in politics. He’d have to see if this Dis checked out later, but for now...for now she was, in the smallest degree, impressing him.  
  
“What?” Thranduil blinked and frowned. Dis was glowering at him with pursed lips.  
  
“Hm?” He hadn’t been aware he’d been doing anything worthy of a reaction like that. In fact he’d been doing little other than observing her.

“Since I arrived, you’ve been doing nothing but looking at me like I tracked mud in and threw my shit all over your floors. I know I don’t look as if I belong here, but I can more than afford to pay rent if that’s what you’re worried about.” She was still addressing him in that same drawl, the northern lit picking up the end of her phrases and breezing them over the beginning of the next. He opened his mouth to reply, something sharp and equally indignant, but Dis cut him off.   
  
“-and besides that, why am I the only one being questioned? I don’t exactly follow you on Twitter. Who the hell are you? Instead of questioning my ‘qualifications’ why don’t you tell me why I should want to live in this building constantly _surrounded_ by pretentious assholes questioning my qualifications?”

  
And it was then that Thranduil decided that she could move in.


	2. moving day

**ll.**

As soon as he saw the first of the metal-working tools, a deep sense of dread settled in his stomach.

  
She’d shown up early on Sunday morning to start her move in, dressed -if it could be fathomed- even worse than she had been at her interview. She wore a black UG tanktop and a pair of worn grey sweat pants tucked into the same ratty black sneakers she’d been wearing the last time he’d seen her.   
  
When he’d exited the elevator, he’d found her standing, a cardboard box tucked under her arm, glasses slipping down her nose as she scrolled through her phone. She’d looked up at him and the corner of her mouth twisted up, teeth half-bared in greeting.   
  
“G’morning, starshine.” He issued her a nod and slowed his approach. He'd rather hoped he'd arrive before her so that he could unpack his belongings and slip out without notice. No such luck. It appeared that Dis, despite her lack of care for personal appearance, was punctual. He stepped around her and jammed the key into the lock. All he’d done thus far was move his furniture in, but his room was bare. It seemed Dis’s wouldn’t stay that way for long. The box in her arms was full to the brim with brushes, acrylics and spare canvas, bits of twisted metal, a blow torch and a dozen rivets.  He knew better than to ask.

All he hoped was that her hobbies, whatever they were, wouldn't damage the walls.   
  
He twisted the key in the lock and pushed the door open. Dis ducked under his arm and entered, dropping her box of...things on the ground.

  
“This is the main room; kitchen’s down the hall, so is your bedroom. I know you didn’t really get the chance to look around last time, so if you’d like to-” Dis was already gone, down the hall, presumably to her bedroom.  
  
Thranduil shrugged and retreated to his corner of the apartment, happy to hide away from his new roommate until he could be bothered to become sociable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yaaaaay, short! If you guys would like to suggest themes, feel free to comment!


	3. communication is key

 

lll.

“Stop it.”  
  
She’d come to him on the third day of their co-habitation, fists balled on her hips, looking down right indignant. Thranduil looked up slowly and took a minute to survey her outfit: A pitifully baggy sweatshirt with the phrase ‘There’s no √-1 in Team’ emblazoned in red print across the front and a pair of athletic shorts. Her hair was tied in a knot on top of her head and she still wore those chunky glasses, perched at the end of her nose, nearly slipping from her face. He’d sighed after taking her in and shut his book, tossing it down on his bed. “What are you talking about, Dis?” He knew exactly what she was talking about. He’d been avoiding her like she’d come down with the plague ever since she’d taken over half the space in the apartment.

“Since I moved in-” He knew it. “-you haven’t so much as spoken to me. We live together, you could at least pretend to be _sociable_.”

She entered his room -without permission- and stood at the foot of his bed, now crossing her arms over her chest. “I realized as I was…” She flitted into a spiel of scientific jargon he couldn’t even pretend to keep up with. Something about comparing ions and atomic mass. “...that I don’t know anything about you. Except that your name’s Thranduil and you’re aggressively vegan.” He pursed his lip and let a manicured eyebrows slide upward.   
  
“I wouldn’t call it aggressive-” 

“You threw out my _bacon_.” She said it like it was some act of war. He remembered. It had been yesterday morning and he’d found the pack of meat -if it could be called that. Bacon, in his mind, was an aberration of nature- sitting on top of his _celery_ and he’d been more than a little pissed.

  
“I do apologize. But to be fair, you messed up the order of the pantry.”  
  
“There was an order?”  
  
“The boxes were alphabetized.”

The corner of her mouth quirked upward. “Sorry, starshine.” Dis took his off-handed banter as an invitation to flop down cross-legged on his bed. Thranduil made a noise in the back of his throat, but didn’t push her away. After all, he supposed he should’ve expected this sooner or later. She didn’t seem the type to endure and uncomfortable situation. He crossed his legs and tilted his head.  
  
“In the spirit of honesty, I don’t know all that much about you either. Except that you have the unfortunate habit of storing raw meat on top of my vegetables.” Dis sucked her teeth in a most unbecoming manner and tossed her head, eyes rolling dramatically.   
  
“Where the hell else am I supposed to put it? The pantry? I’ve no idea how to alphabetize packages of meat.”   
  
They went on like that for a few minutes, just talking, and he found that it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. Dis was good natured in a strange way, and no matter how many dry comments he passed at her, she always had a snappy response ready.  
  
“So who’re you?” She asked after he’d described the merits of veganism.   
  
“Pardon?”  
  
“I said who are you? You gave me the third-degree when I came for the interview, but you never told me about yourself.” Thranduil shrugged.  
  
“What do you want to know?”   
  
“Whatever you can tell me.” Whatever he could tell her? Unlike Dis, he wasn’t trying to hide his family history.

  
“I’m Thranduil Oropherion, 31 years of age. I graduated from the United University of Arda-”  
  
“Are you serious?” Dis’s eyes and mouth were wide open and her glasses were perched more precariously than usual on the tip of her nose. “That’s the best college in the country. I was valedictorian of my senior class, and they didn’t even blink at me.” That did suprise him. Dis’s story about Gondor had checked out, and he’d seen her diplomas while she was unpacking. He knew why they hadn’t let her in. As with everything in Arda, acceptance depended on who your family was, and Dis, Dis without a name, Dis with her ill-fitting clothes and dirty sneakers hadn’t had a prayer of getting in.

 **  
**He sniffed. “It was smaller in my day.” Dis grinned toothily at him.  
  
“Are you aware that you talk like an 85-year old man?”  
  
“So I’ve been told.” And that was the first time he heard Dis laugh.  
  
He found he liked the sound.


	4. rubberbands really are bad for your hair: part one

“We need to talk.”  
  
Dis stood in front of Thranduil, arms crossed over her chest, weight all cocked over on to one hip. Already he knew this was not going to be the type of talk he enjoyed. Over month he’d been living with Dis -and more specifically, the past two and a half weeks he’d spent actually speaking to her- he’d learned to tell her mood from her stance. Lounging usually meant she was content, any position that involved her standing on top of things, hopping back and forth from foot to foot and twirling meant that she was happy. Sickeningly so. But standing arms crossed over her chest, weight all cocked over to one hip meant that she was irritated. And that she was about to give him a lengthy explanation of why.   
  
He blinked at her once, slowly, and then returned to chopping his peppers. He’d taken to slicing and storing his food right after going to the market. If he didn’t there’d be no fridge space, what with Dis’s bacon, and Dis’s beer and Dis’s beef and Dis’s chemical concoctions that for some unfathomable reason needed to be shoved into his vegetable drawers.   
  
Dis sighed when he didn’t respond and moved on to his other side, hopping up on to the counter -an impressive feat for someone who barely cleared 5’0- and popping one of the cubed vegetables into her mouth. She immediately pulled a face and spat it into the waste basket.   
  
“Charming.”

“I know, I am aren’t I?” She shot him a smirk which almost immediately morphed back into a frown. “No, no! You are not gonna get me off topic.”   
  
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Dis glowered at him and he met her gaze mildly, challenging her to say something else. He knew if she took his bait they’d never getting around to what was bothering her so much, and apparently she did too. She rolled her eyes.   
  
“It’s about your hair.” Thranduil stopped chopping and shot her a glance out of the corner of his eye. It wasn’t a secret that elves were touchy about their hair, possibly passed only by dwarves in their protection of it.   
  
“What of it?” His tone was clipped, but Dis didn’t seemed phazed. She spoke evenly, conversationally,even.   
  
“You keep putting rubber bands in it.” She spoke as if he’d chopped it all off and used it for kindling and not just tied it back.

  
“Yes?”  
  
Dis inhaled deeply,closed her eyes and let her words fly: “Andthat’sreallydangerousbecauseitcanbreakyourhairoffanddamageitandthatwouldbeashamebecauseit’sreallynicehairforamananywayandI’dliketoknowifIcouldbraiditforyou. Please.” Her cheeks had gone red, he noticed, and when she opened one eye to peek at him, it was with a mixture of irritation and embarrassment.   
  
Thranduil honestly didn’t know what to say. He’d been expecting her to say something about its length, or how straight it was, or any number of things he’d heard from other non-elves. In his field of work, long hair was considered unprofessional, so he’d taken to keeping it tied up with whatever he had laying around: Pencils, string, and especially rubber bands.   
  
“I...I, um-”  
  
“It’s fine, I shouldn’t have asked or told you that. I’m sorry.” And the tiny woman hopped off the counter and fled to her bedroom. He watched her until she disappeared around the corner in the hall and closed his eyes. Where had he put his comb and all of his hair ties?  
  
He tapped at Dis’ doorway ten minutes later and when she opened up, she didn’t quite look at him. “Listen,” She started. “I’m really sorry if I offended you, I know-” Thranduil merely held up the comb, the box of bobby pins and the hairbands as a peace offering. A massive grin split Dis’ face and she bounced on the balls of her feet. “Really? Like, seriously?” Without waiting for his response, she yanked him into her room and shoved him at her bed, chattering happily about all the different things she was going to do to his hair. While she practically twirled around, Thranduil took the opportunity to look around.  
  
She had an interesting taste in decorations, that was for sure. Posters from classic rock bands hung on her walls, next to those of classical music festivals and well-known DJs. In the corner, a half finished metal statue gleamed beneath an oil painting. There were schematics and calculations papering her desk, all written in thin, slanting shorthand. This woman was strange, but in the best way. She bounced from interest from interest taking what she liked and making it entirely her own.   
  
DIs plopped down on the bed behind him and clapped her hands. “Alright, starshine. Let’s get to it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone give me some themes. Also, if you'd like to co-author a drabble, or write one, please feel free to let me know.


	5. on carrying your tiny roommate to bed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, babes! 
> 
> Sorry this chapter took so long to get up! School's been a killer. Anywho, enjoy! And I am still working on Aburik and Abqaha, so keep an eye out for those updates as well.

  **V**.  ****

Late nights were starting to become habitual.

There hadn't been a single night in the past week that he'd gotten back to Greenwood before midnight. Midterms were always a hard time at the university, but as of late, he felt like ripping his hair out. Four of the professors in his college had resigned after not being give tenure, and instead of simply hiring new teachers to take their place, Gandalf had decided to simply dump the courseload of seven people onto the three he had left. Thranduil never had been a people person, but working in such close proximity with Professors Oakenshield and Bowman had made him even less so.

One was infuriatingly stubborn and the other practically gave passing grades away. Bard he could tolerate on good days. It wasn't as if he tried to be irritating, he just had the sort of wistful, calmly content face that made Thranduil want to scream. No one could stay that calm all the time. No one. There'd been many a time that the blonde elf had come close to choking the man's sniveling TA, but Bard had stopped him with some well timed words and a pat on back. He was too forgiving for his own good.

Oakenshield, however, was just an ass.

No, no he was worse than that. Asses could be persuaded to move with patience and hard work. Professor Oakenshield stayed where he was simply to spite anyone who asked him to go. He was a dwarf -naturally irritating anyway- and an award winning professor. While very few people tolerated Thorin and even fewer liked him -he suspected the only person he could call a true friend was his assistant, Bilbo-  he was a historical genius and could be counted on to memorize dates, names and places others could barely remember. Unfortunately he had an ego a mile wide and the tendency to talk down to everyone. Funny, since he barely cleared 5'4.

Thranduil pulled the keys to his apartment out of his pocket and unlocked the door only to find the flat completely dark. Well, not completely. The TV was on, casting ghostly shadows on the wall and chattering in some language he didn't understand. His gaze shifted to the couch where a small lump, completely covered in blankets lay. He sighed and tossed down his briefcase. He'd told her not to wait up for him, but she refused to turn in until making sure everyone had made it home safe that day. Thranduil flicked off the television and patted Dis on the shoulder.

"Dis...Dis, wake up." The tiny woman didn't stir. " _Dis_." He shook her a bit harder. She only groaned and burrowed deeper into her blankets. Thranduil sighed and shook his head. Well, she certainly wasn't sleeping on the couch. It wasn't all that comfortable and whatever Dis did at work, she couldn't afford a stiff back.

The elf stooped down and pulled the blankets off of his roommate. She was sleeping on her stomach, arms and legs flailed out around her, glasses still perched on her nose. He rolled his eyes. "Dis..." Still no response. He guessed it couldn't be helped then. Thranduil rolled the small woman over and lifted her slowly, trying not to wake her. He stood still for a moment, breath silent as he watched her sleep.

Despite her small stature, Dis felt like a ton of bricks in his arms. Thranduil was by no stretch of the imagination weak, despite his roommate's insistence that his eating habits were making him melt away; the girl was just solid. He grunted and shifted her weight slightly to the right. Of course, that only cut off her air and made her start snoring. Typical. The elf exhaled sharply and blew a wisp of hair out of his eyes. He should've just woken her.

Thranduil trudged the seemingly infinite stretch of hallway from the livingroom to Dis's bedroom and knocked the door open with a hip, nicking the girl's head in the process. He cursed under his breath and watched for her to wake and glare at him for being so rough. She didn't

 **  
**For all of Dis's noise, she slept like the dead.  
  
He entered his roommate’s landfill of a room and tried not to trip on any of the metal pieces she had laying on the ground. She’d started a new project, he could tell. Bits and pieces of machines were scattered about  the floor in what he was sure was a complex, organized system. What it was, he had no idea, but Dis seemed to be able to find everything just when she needed it.   
  
He dumped her unceremoniously onto the bed and tried to unlock her finger’s from his Oxford. She had a vice-grip on it and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t pry her small fingers from the fabric.   
  
“ _Iluvatar_ …” He swore. Nothing to do about it now but take it off. He certainly wasn’t climbing into bed with her. Thranduil popped the buttons off as quickly and as silently as he could manage, slipping his arms out and leaving the shirt in her arms. He’d retrieve it in the morning. Or never. Hopefully Dis would just toss the shirt aside in the morning without wondering how she got back into her room or who put her there.  
  
He found the shirt a week later on his bed, ironed, starched and folded neatly. Dis never said anything.


	6. celery hearts

vi.  
  
“Are you goin’ out?” Thranduil looked up from his book and across the living room at his roommate. Dis was sprawled out on the couch, half her arm hidden inside a bag of beef jerky and she was staring in mild interest at the television. Whatever program she was watching, it sounded violent. Occasional sword clashing would ring out along with a host of yells in a language he couldn’t understand.   
  
“What on earth is that?” She popped a chunk of meat into her mouth and began the arduous task of chewing it up. Without even attempting to swallow, she spoke again.  
  
“Some war movie about the third age. Complete bullshit. They’ve got five armies all fighting against each other and apparently wargs are their own army.”   
  


“Hm.” Dis was off track again. With any luck she’d end up complaining about the film long enough to forget her question and what day it was. He let himself relax and slip back into his book, the words wrapping around him like a blanket. This was what he needed, not a party, not chocolate and certainly not-  
  
“So are you goin’ out?” Damn.   
  
“Why would I be going out today, Dis?” He wasn’t the going out type. He hadn’t been in quite some time, but not now. Not when he had papers to grade and students to chastise and Thorin Oakenshields to berate. The tiny woman shrugged.   
  
“I dunno. Just thought you might have someone to go out with.” The room settled into a cold silence and Thranduil looked away from her. He didn’t want to go out and he’d had no cause to after...well, Elves were known for their messy break-ups.  
  
“No, I’ll be staying in tonight.” Dis grunted in acknowledgement and their conversation apparently over, he settled back into his novel, blue eyes hanging onto every word. Far away he could hear Dis clanging about in the kitchen, slamming draws and rifling through the refrigerator. When she tapped him on the shoulder a minute later, he felt as if he was being awakened from a dream. The blond man turned and look over his shoulder.  
  
There stood Dis, a plate in her hand with eight sticks of celery fashioned into a heart shape.   
  
“Be mine?” She asked with a waggle of her eyebrows. Thranduil rolled his eyes and turned back around.   
  
“Really, Dis, must you always-”  
  
She silenced him with a peck to his temple.   
  
“Happy Valentine’s day, Starshine.”


	7. two percent body fat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bet you thought you'd seen the last of me in this fandom. I never give up on an unfinished project.

VII.

 

“You’re very soft.”    
  


Thranduil said it in that frank, matter-of-fact way he said everything and Dis cut her eyes at him before shoving another fistful of popcorn into her mouth. It was 11:45 at night and they were on the fourth movie of their bi-monthly  _ Harry Potter _ binge watch. The tall man currently contorted around her didn’t particularly enjoy the movies, but he enjoyed being begged and pleaded with even less, so he submitted to his roommate’s will and sat through eight films in one night. Their couch wasn’t big by any stretch of the imagination, barely meant for two people of Dis’s size and Thranduil accounted for at least three of her. He folded himself into the chair longways and Dis sat between his legs  bundled up in whatever blanket her mother had knitted her that month. He never complain. His roommate was relatively small and the warm weight of her curled up against his stomach wasn’t wholly unenjoyable. He whispers it to her halfway through Order of the Phoenix when he’s sure she’s asleep or enough of the way there not to process what he means until later, but she stirs, tilts her head back against his chest to look up at him.    
  
“What?”    
  
“I said you’re very soft.” Dis blinks at him slowly, huffs and turns her attention back to the screen.    
  
“You just think that because you have 2% body fat.” He hums low in his throat, neither an affirmation or denial and watches Harry Potter cast a spell. 


End file.
